Walls Come Down
by AlwaysEachOther
Summary: "He killed my father. He's been working this for so much longer than we thought." He choked out, failing to keep his voice steady. Michael is left reeling in the wake of Anson's confession. Alternate ending/scene insert for 5.16 Depth Perception.


_Hi Burn Notice fans! I haven't published a Burn Notice story in forever, not since I finished my rewrite of season 7 over a year ago! Life has been hectic, but now that I've got some time off I've started going through my many Michael and Fiona stories that I've started, and I'm trying to finish them up so they can be uploaded. This one is an alternate ending/added scene for 5.16 Depth Perception. This scene is set right after Anson leaves Michael at the hospital. I hope you enjoy it, and please leave me a review because I would love to hear your thoughts so that I can keep publishing more! Burn Notice fans are definitely the most supportive. Also, any lines I have taken from the show obviously do not belong to me._

/

 _Trained operatives are experts at concealing their true feelings and carrying on with a mission. Compartmentalising so much, so frequently becomes second nature, but can often lead to bigger fallout once the mission is over._

Michael opened the door to the loft, walking over to the bed and immediately dropping down on to it. He stared at the wall opposite him, unable to form any semblance of a coherent thought. He was quickly losing control of his faculties, and he knew it.

Those who knew Michael Westen were aware of how good he is at his job. He could never be mistaken for someone who wore his heart on his sleeve; he was a hardened professional who always focused on the task at hand.

Working with Anson had been much harder than he'd anticipated. He knew the psychotic psychiatrist was an expert at profiling people, but he'd never expected the man to crawl so far inside his head. One day worth of questions and Michael was feeling more insecure than he had in years. He'd managed to keep his mask on at the hospital, but as he'd travelled home Michael could feel the scared, little boy he once was growing inside of him. It didn't matter how hard he'd worked to put all of that behind him.

The realisation that Anson had known Frank Westen had shocked Michael, but it was the awareness that the man had killed his father that had left him floored. Michael hated his bastard of a father, but he wasn't sure what to do with this new piece of information. No amount of training he'd had could prepare him for what he was currently feeling.

" _You're welcome, Michael."_

As he sat staring at the wall for who knows how long, Michael felt the numbness start to leave him, quickly being replaced by fury. He leapt to his feet, marching to the side of the loft where his punching bag had been relocated after Fiona had moved in. Without thinking of strapping his fists, he began to pound the soft surface, forcing every fibre of anger, resentment and confusion out through his movements. He pounded at the bag for over five minutes, before his breathing turned unsteady, sweat running down his face.

He had been framed for murder, watched a friend die in his arms, his childhood friend had been murdered, his mom's new boyfriend had been using her and then been killed for it, his mother had slapped him and thrown him out of her house, Fiona had blown up a building to save him and she could be going to jail for the rest of her life. This year sucked, and Michael could feel his control slipping. For decades he'd refused to maintain any relationships, and now that he had, they were all being destroyed. With every punch to the bag he released some of the tension that had taken up residence in his mind and body, but it would not solve any of his problems.

He suddenly stopped attacking the equipment, closing his eyes and leaning his moisture soaked face against the material. He desperately tried to calm his breathing, wanting to return to his usual sense of control. There was nothing more he hated than feeling vulnerable, and he couldn't remember ever feeling quite like this before.

He moved away from the punching bag, heading out to the balcony. He leaned against the railing as he stared out to the water. When would he finally get to the bottom of this, when would everything be resolved? He'd been fighting for so long, and the feeling in his chest was finally starting to weigh him down. There needed to be an end some time.

The door to the loft behind him opened, and the sound of footsteps alerted him to Fiona's presence. She was finally home after her trip to the Cayman Islands with Jesse, and she had certainly missed a lot while she'd been gone.

"Michael." Her lilting voice hit his ears as she approached him. He could never get tired of the way she said his name.

"Hey Fi." He replied without turning to face her. He was barely keeping the stress of the day under control, and he knew once he looked in her eyes it would all be over. She was the only person who could ever sense his true feelings.

His girlfriend came to stand beside him on the balcony, leaning with her back against the railing so that she could face him. "The job went well. It was actually kind of fun, not that I enjoy helping the snarky psychopath that is Anson, but …" Her voice trailed off as she finally took in Michael's expression. "Michael? What's wrong?"

He continued looking out at the water, but he could feel his defences falling fast as Fi stroked his arm gently. He was ashamed to let her see him like this, even though she was the only person who ever had.

"Michael, please tell me." Fiona reached over to pull his hands into hers. She let out a small gasp when he turned to finally face her. His expression was more haunted than she had seen in a long time. His eyes were rimmed with red and his jaw set more tightly than usual, alerting her to the fact that he was trying to reign in his emotions.

"Fi …" He whispered, horrified at the sound of his own voice, so small and frightened.

The small woman closed the gap between them, wrapping her arms around him as tightly as possible, trying to give him strength for whatever he was dealing with.

"It's ok, it's ok." She whispered as she felt his body relax beneath hers, his forehead dropping to the curve of her neck. She ran one hand up and down his back comfortingly, while the other found its way to the back of his head, threading her fingers into his hair. This was unusual territory for them. While they'd both comforted each other, those times were usually far between. She couldn't remember the last time she'd seen him like this, and it was causing the feeling of dread in her stomach to grow.

They stood like that for a while, clinging to each other on the balcony. Michael eventually found the strength to lift his head from Fi's shoulder, meeting her concerned gaze.

"Anson … He killed my father. He's been working this for so much longer than we thought." He choked out, failing to keep his voice steady.

Fiona's jaw dropped slightly as she listened to Michael. Just in case his relationship with his father hadn't been tortured enough; Anson was baiting him even further, messing in things that he shouldn't be. Anger towards the twisted psychiatrist burned within her, but was quickly squashed by the worry she had for the man in her arms. Unsure of what to say, she reached up to cup his face with her palms, stroking his cheeks with her fingers tenderly.

"I don't understand …" She said quietly, unable to believe that this went even further than any of them had imagined.

"He talked to my dad just like he did with my mom, he knows things about my childhood. He arranged to kill that son of a bitch and make it look like an accident!"

Fiona didn't know every detail of Michael's childhood, but being with him for so many years, combined with his reluctance to discuss his father and Madeline's words that she often dropped, gave her enough pieces to assemble the picture. She certainly understood Michael's feelings towards his father, and she agreed that they were indeed justified, so she knew how this new knowledge must be confusing to him.

"This is just more proof that we shouldn't be doing anything for him Michael. He has gone so far beyond what we imagined, it's clear there's nothing he wouldn't do to get to you!"

"I know Fi, but we don't have a choice at the moment." He sighed heavily.

"Yes, we do Michael!" She argued back.

"No, we don't Fi! You know what he'll do to you if we don't cooperate!" This was the line he'd been repeating each time she brought the topic up, but he'd never looked so desperate saying it before. This time, his eyes were so wide and full of fear that her heart broke for him. She tugged him back into her arms, wanting nothing more than to erase that look from his eyes.

"I can't risk losing you Fi." He whispered into her hair, his voice more honest and fragile than she had ever heard. He'd said the phrase a number of times, especially recently, but never had it sounded so desperate coming from his lips. Her heart surged at his admission, finally realising just how much he loved her, despite the fact that he'd never actually said it to her.

Fiona pulled back, her face set in a clear line of determination. He needed her to be the strong one now, and she would do anything he needed.

"Then we'll just have to keep working, and keep fighting back." She said fiercely.

Michael swallowed heavily and nodded. His expression was still unsure, but she could see him slowly rebuilding the walls that normally guarded his emotions. He used his years of training to rein his feelings back in, and get ready for the next battle. While his tendency to ignore his feelings usually drove her crazy, she understood why he needed to do it right now.

"Thanks, Fi." He said softly. He couldn't manage to say anything else, but he knew she understood what he really meant.

She just nodded back, laying her head on his chest. Michael rested his head on top of hers, closing his eyes and burying his nose in her hair, breathing in her familiar scent. It helped to centre him.

"We're supposed to go and meet with Sam." Fiona murmured, breaking the silence. "Do you want me to call him and tell him we can't make it?"

Michael's chest clenched as he realised she was doing everything she could to help him. He still wasn't sure what he'd done to deserve her, even after all these years.

"No, it's okay." He replied softly. "I just need to change and we can go." He bent his head to brush his lips across her temple, squeezing her tightly for a moment before releasing her and heading back inside.

Fiona watched him as he went, her fury at Anson rising again. When she got her hands on that man, she would make him pay for all the pain her had caused Michael. She would find a way to end Anson, if it was the last thing she ever did.

 _We'll figure this out, Michael_ she swore silently. She just needed to keep believing it herself.


End file.
